Helping the Mockingjay
by pink pumpkin
Summary: I am a savage, ruthless murderer that has been pulled into this. I didn't choose it, but this is the life I own. I, Johanna Mason, helped the biggest rebel in Panem for 75 years. I helped the Mockingjay, and this is my story. Johanna's POV.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1: Knowing**

**Welcome to the 75****th**** Hunger Games with your guide... Johanna Mason!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own any characters, Suzanne Collins does, but I'm sure you've heard this all before **

"On the seventy-fifth anniversary as a reminder to the rebels that even the strongest among them cannot overcome the Capitol, the male and female will be reaped from their existing pool of victors."

I heard the news blaring loudly from the sitting room. I can't say it surprised me at all. At all. But I guess that might be because I was already told. I sit down calmly to eat the large chunk of pie I had cut myself as President Snow finishes his long speech on how this year's games will be "interesting."

The program finishes and the TV snaps to a shot where some reporter with wild, peachy hair is standing on the streets of the Capitol along with several hundred other people celebrating the Quarter Quell.

The Capitol, enjoying people's deaths. I stop eating. How can they live like that? Just watching us dying? Just because they were born into a Capitol family, rich for life. Hurling the plate containing the leftover pie at the wall, I stomp out, leaving the floor covered with speckles of pastry and china.

I can hear my maid Meggy scurrying around downstairs, trying to clear up the mess I left.

It's not the killing people I hate, not that I like killing people, but it's the thought that the dying persons family is out there, willing them to live, watching them die, and hating their killer, which is sometimes me.

A soft bleeping from my desk interrupts my mental blabber. I rush over to receive a coded email signed Plutarch, in code of course.

I wrote the words I translated down on a scrap of paper. It read:

_Johanna_

_As you know, the arena has been decided to be a clock, but I can now inform you that it will be in a warm climate. The inner ring is to be an island, the middle ring being the water and the outer ring will be a jungle._

_I will send you more information as I receive it._

_Plutarch_

As soon as I finished reading it I tore it up and threw the remains into the fire. If the Capitol finds out that I know about the arena, I will be instantly captured and killed, slowly. The others Plutarch contacted will be in a worse condition. They have people they love at stake.

I watch as the paper crackles and curls in the flames as I wonder what the other to-be tributes are thinking.

About the Games, probably.

**Well, what do you think?**

**Please review- please? Say hi to my sister Sophie**


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2: Reaping**

**Disclaimer: Suzanna Collins owns all of this including Johanna**

I spend the time from the announcement to the reaping as I would spend time normally, my daily routine being get up, eat, train, eat, lay about, eat, watch TV, bed. Quite a boring life really.

I find out from Plutarch that the escape plan is for either Beetee or Tethor, districts 3 victors, to blow up the forcefield surrounding us and from there a rebel hovercraft will collect us.

By the time reaping day comes, I am almost glad to break my daily routine in favour of the games. Almost.

I headed towards the small roped off area meant for me. Evan Wadd, Blight Copper and Freddie Hay are standing in a similar area to the one I'm in next to me.

This year Chopper, the district 7 escort, is styling a haircut that is almost as scary as his name.

"Ladies first," he announces. Lady first would be more suitable. His thin, spidery hand reached down and scrabbled around to find my name in the oversized bowl.

"Johanna Mason," he called out loudly. Huh, that's a surprise. He turned to glare down at me. Glaring right back at him, I narrowed my eyes and twisted my features into the most deadly pose I could pull off.

Chopper, dropping his eyes, retreated back to the boys bowl and dipped his hand in until he brought out the scrap of paper lying at the bottom.

"Blight Gander."

Blight slowly ascended the stairs after me, pausing to look into the eyes of who I assumed to be his sister. I looked away quickly, not wanting to see their family exchange and losing my evil composure for a second.

Chopper guided us through the town and towards the justice building, bashing his face on the door before realizing that the automatic doors were locked. I smirked as he rubbed his nose with his hand, throwing me an evil glance before turning back around and marching back to the town centre with us in tow like baby ducks.

"New procedure," one of the peacekeepers called, ushering us towards the sleek, black car that would no doubt take us to the train station.

Evan and Freddie are escorted into the train after us by peacekeepers and the doors are closed behind them. The wheels begin to turn and District 7 gets smaller and smaller, finally melting into the distance.


End file.
